


your secret's out (it isn't even a good one)

by the_seventh_avenger



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Van Days, bed sharing, idiot nerds in love, joetrick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_seventh_avenger/pseuds/the_seventh_avenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, Patrick and Joe keep talking about the whole gay thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your secret's out (it isn't even a good one)

"Never have I ever . . . owned a cat."

 

"Does it count if it was your sister's cat?"

 

"Put the finger down, Hurley."

 

"Fuck off." Andy switches up the order of his fingers so the only remaining one is his middle finger, which he then proceeds to wave in Pete's general direction.

 

For some reason, the band's decided that the best way to kill time before actually practicing is with a rousing Never Have I Ever competition. It ended up escalating into a death match in which each statement is aimed directly at another member of the band. The allotted number of fingers has been raised to 20.

 

Needless to say, Joe is determined to win. He knows that he and Patrick have the clear advantage of being a hell of a lot younger, and as a result, less likely to have engaged in risqué behaviors. At the moment, Pete's down to two fingers, Andy's down to six, Patrick has a whopping twelve, and Joe has nine.

 

Joe shoots one straight at Patrick: "Never have I ever picked every single marshmallow out of a box of Lucky Charms and eaten them, leaving the nasty little cereal bits behind."

 

"I hate you. So much."

 

"I know." Joe smiles at Patrick's stupidly cute glare.

 

It's Andy's turn, now. "Never have I ever . . . gotten to second base with a guy."

 

Pete protests, loudly, but puts a finger down anyway. Joe contemplates whether or not to lie about this one . . .

 

Nah, it's not worth it. He'd rather lose than cheat. Never Have I Ever is some serious shit.

 

So he puts down a finger.

 

It shouldn't be monumental. He's pretty sure nobody even noticed—

 

Except Patrick, who elbows him in the side. "Something you want to share with the class?"

 

"I lost a bet," Joe says by way of meager explanation. Technically, the loss of the bet had forced him to ask out his crush, but that wasn't relevant.

 

Patrick accepts the excuse, though, and the gameplay goes on like nothing happened.

 

 

Joe is steadily banging his head into his pillow at two in the morning.

 

Yeah, yeah, that's weird and all, he gets it. It's just—

 

He's feeling emotionally distressed right now, okay? Midnight is quite possibly the worst time to realize that you're in love with one of your best friends. Particularly when you're in the same shitty motel bed as said friend. Maybe splurging on an actual room to sleep in wasn't worth it, if this is the result.

 

Whatever. Joe's pretty sure that Patrick's asleep, anyway. It's not like he—

 

"Dude. What the hell."

 

Joe tilts his head over towards Patrick's side of the bed, connecting a droopy-eyed face with the annoyed hiss coming from less than two feet away. Joe buries his forehead in the pillow once more. "I'm emotionally distressed. Give me a minute."

 

"Okay."

 

They lay in silence for a couple moments. Joe's heart is in his throat—did he, like, accidentally say something out loud? Because that would be awkward as fuck—

 

"Why're you emotionally distressed?" Patrick whispers.

 

Joe groans softly. "Dude, 'm in love."

 

"Oh."

 

"Yeah, oh."

 

Patrick rolls over so he's laying on his back. "Can I ask why that's a bad thing?"

 

This is it. How much of the truth should Joe shove into Patrick's face? After a moment's contemplation, he makes sure his mouth is muffled against the mattress as he forces out, "He's straight." Only, it sounds more like "E stray."

 

"What?"

 

Well, it's not like Joe's ever been able to lie to Patrick. Might as well not start now. He tilts his head to the side, away from Patrick this time. "He's straight," he says more clearly, speaking to the darkness rather than to Patrick.

 

"That sucks," is Patrick's immediate response.

 

"How th'fuck would you know?" Joe punches the mattress a couple times, both for emphasis and in an attempt to flatten out a lump that's been pressing against his back for hours.Patrick waits a long time to respond.

 

Then he chokes out, "S'not like I haven't had things for guys before, okay?" The sheets rustle and Joe has to clutch them in his fist in order to keep them from sliding away entirely. "There. I said it. I am maybe . . . not straight."

 

Joe isn't sure what to say. They're laying in the same bed at two in the morning, either Andy or Pete snoring from the bed across the room, and they've both basically come out to each other. Eventually, Joe settles on, "If you're having some kind of fucking sexuality crisis, please just tell me so I can console you through it or whatever."

 

"No, no, it's nothing like that—it's just, like, I'm not out or whatever."

 

"I got that much, dude. And I guess I've got no room to judge you, right?" He laughs. It rings unnaturally loud in the early morning haze.

 

Patrick manages something resembling a chuckle as well. "Yeah, you really don't."

 

They don't say anything else, and Joe eventually drifts off into hazy dreams filled with blue eyes and a flawless voice.

 

 

In the morning, neither of them mentions the incident in any way other than an awkward smile-and-nod. Joe's pretty sure that just serves the purpose of proving yes, they both remember the conversation. To be honest, he'd rather spend some time internally celebrating the fact that no, his pathetic crush isn't on a straight guy after all. There's a tiny bit of hope.

 

The topic isn't brought up until four days later. Not that Joe's counting.

 

They're sitting with their backs pressed to the brick wall of some venue. It's as good a way to pass time as any, and there's still an hour before they head up to play.

 

"So . . . which guys have you had a crush on?" Joe isn't sure why he brings it up—a lull in the conversation, maybe? Well, it's too late now.

 

Patrick tenses up for a second. Joe panics; did he just break some subconscious pact of silence?

 

"You're not allowed to laugh, okay?" Patrick buries his face in his kneecaps.

 

"Here—a show of solidarity. My original sexuality crisis was in eighth grade, and it was over Harrison Ford." Wow. Joe's never actually said that out loud before. It's kind of stupid, now that he thinks about it.

 

In one breath, Patrick forces out, "I might've had a crush on Pete for, like, the first hour of knowing him."

 

"What?" Joe doesn't laugh, but it's a near thing. "I mean—I thought Harrison Ford was pretty shameful, but—Pete? He's so—"

 

"—so Pete, I know, that's why I got over it within the hour. But you've got to admit, from an objective point of view, he's kinda hot."

 

Joe turns the idea over in his mind for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I can see it. He's . . . not my type, I guess."

 

It's right about then that Pete pokes his head out the back door of the venue, demanding their presence for some urgent matter that Joe can't bring himself to register in his mind. He and Patrick are too busy giggling.

 

Pete doesn't get it. Needless to say, nobody explains the joke.

 

 

It's almost midnight and they're sitting alone in some 24-hour diner when Patrick brings it up again. "So, like, what's your story? Is it a straight-up gay thing, or, like, bi or pan? You haven't really talked about girls in the average straight-guy way before, but . . ."

 

Joe's a little surprised at the question. "I'm gay. How 'bout you?"

 

"I like pansexual. It always throws people off—'pan' means 'all', y'know, so they just sort of assume that I want to bone everybody I meet." Patrick laughs. "That's not the case, if you were wondering."

 

"I wasn't, but thanks."

 

"You're welcome."

 

Joe sips at his milkshake, feeling bad for the half-dead waitress who clearly isn't happy with her shift. He wonders where Pete and Andy are. Probably in bed with some random scene girls. Not the same bed. They're both straight. But then again, he thought Patrick was straight . . . huh. Anything's possible.

 

"Are you ever going to tell me who you were banging your head into the pillow over?"

 

"Huh?" Joe tries to get a decent-sized chunk of strawberry into his straw.

 

"You said you were in love with some guy. Who was he?"

 

Oh.

 

Joe figures this question has been stewing in Patrick's mind for awhile now. He isn't quite sure how to answer.

 

"Oh god, it's not Pete, is it?"

 

Joe snorts into his glass. "No! I already said he wasn't my type."

 

Patrick shrugs. "Anything's possible. What about Andy?"

 

"Fuck no."

 

"Then who?"

 

"You'd hate me."

 

"Why would I hate you?"

 

"I—" Joe shoots a death glare at his milkshake. "'In love' was way too strong of a term. It was just a stupid crush. I'm basically over it anyways."

 

Patrick looks unimpressed, but lets the topic go, for which Joe is eternally grateful.

 

 

He's hot. Like, really, really hot. He's probably somewhere around Joe's age, wearing clothes that are too tight to be legal, and—did Joe mention that he's hot?

 

But Joe's going to play it cool and not check the guy out all through the set. He's also not going to stammer his way through signing the dude's forearm, and—

 

"Dude."

 

Hot Guy has walked away, and Patrick is shooting Joe death glares.

 

"What?" Patrick's dude had been pretty important-sounding, so Joe gets defensive.

 

"Go talk to him!"

 

"I'm not gonna—"

 

Patrick's death glare intensifies. "Don't lie—you've been checking him out all night. He clearly thinks you're worth his time. You're single, unless you're an amazing liar. Go talk to him."

 

"Excuse you, but I'm in a dedicated one-sided relationship—"

 

"Go. Now." As if that wasn't enough, Patrick grabs Joe's arm and drags him over towards Hot Guy, and damn, Patrick's stronger than he looks, and Joe wonders how much of that translates to the bedroom—

 

"This is Joe. He thinks you're hot."

 

Normally, Joe would be offended by that, but he's too flustered by Hot Guy to say much other than, "Um—right."

 

Hot Guy just smiles—and oh, maybe Patrick was onto something. "I'm Ethan, and I think you're hot."

 

Patrick just says, "You're both welcome," before walking away.

 

Joe's going to have to thank him later. Maybe he can look past his desperate love for Patrick for a little bit of fun.

 

"So . . . how much do you like the marshmallows that come with Lucky Charms?" Joe asks. He hopes that counts as flirting.

 

Ethan laughs, anyway.

 

 

The walk of shame isn't so bad, Joe thinks as he stumbles into the van around one that morning.

 

"How was it?" Patrick asks, a devious smile on his face.

 

Joe's pretty sure his cheeks are on fire as he mutters, "Awesome."

 

"And did your—what'd you say?—dedicated one-sided relationship with some mystery man get in the way?"

 

". . . No."

 

"Called it."

 

"Ooh, did Trohman finally get some?" Pete asks from where he's sprawled in the passenger seat. "I didn't see—who was it?"

 

Patrick gives Joe a questioning look. Joe just shrugs and rips off the metaphorical Band-Aid. "That one guy, Ethan—the tall one with the orange jeans?"

 

"Oh, I liked those jeans," Pete says after a moment, his voice maybe a bit more measured than usual. As much as Pete can be an asshole, Joe appreciates his efforts to not react to Joe's whole gay thing.

 

Joe laughs nervously. "If you say so."

 

Pete takes this as a challenge and immediately starts defending the jeans. Andy, who apparently woke up just to hear this conversation, says, "Joe, you've got horrible taste. Pick a dude who knows how to dress."

 

Patrick knows how to dress, Joe thinks as he listens to Pete's insane rant.

 

 

Joe catches Patrick in the act this time. He's literally got his hand in the box of Lucky Charms. The one with PROPERTY OF JOE AND ONLY JOE (that means stay out, Patrick) written on it in black Sharpie.

 

"I knew it! I fucking knew you were the marshmallow thief."

 

"Whoa—dude, calm down!" Patrick hurriedly closes the box and sets it down on the floor. "It wasn't me, I swear—"

 

"That box of Lucky Charms," Joe says in a dangerously low voice, "cost me $4.99 at a gas station. You know I'm fucking broke. That means the Lucky Charms were quite the investment. And you—you had the nerve to sift through, eating the marshmallows and only the marshmallows?" He's moving forward now, in what he hopes is an intimidating kind of way. "I can't believe I thought you were my friend." I can't believe I thought I was in love with you, he adds internally.

 

"I swear to god, it wasn't me this time!" Patrick insists. He's lying. Joe can see it in his eyes. "It was—Pete or somebody—"

 

Pete. Joe realizes that he's got the trump card right in his grasp. "If you ever touch my Lucky Charms again, I'll tell Pete."

 

"Tell him—oh." Patrick's face pales with the realization that Joe knows his secret. "You wouldn't."

 

"I would."

 

"I trusted you!"

 

"You ate my Lucky Charms."

 

"Outing someone is a much bigger deal than stealing cereal."

 

"So you admit that you did it."

 

Patrick scrambles back in the seat, actual fear visible in his eyes. "Yes! Yes, I did it! I ate your fucking cereal, asshole, now tell me my secret's safe!"

 

"Tell me you won't steal my cereal anymore."

 

"I won't! I swear I won't—"

 

That's a relief. Joe would hate to wind up with a hard-on from all this up-close-and-personal looming. "Fine. But if I ever catch you again—"

 

"C'mon! Help us set up!" Andy yells, poking his head into the van.

 

Joe scrambles away from Patrick, shoves his Lucky Charms into his bag, and leaves the van to help set up.

 

If Patrick's a little out of breath, well, that's probably just from the fear of being outed. Joe knows how stressful that can get.

 

Later, right in the middle of the show, Joe has a brilliant idea. He steps up to Patrick's microphone and says, "I've got an announcement to make!"

 

"Ooh, what is it?" Pete asks.

 

"Patrick here—" He points at Patrick, in case there's any confusion. "—has been stealing the marshmallows out of my Lucky Charms."

 

"Joe, I swear—" Patrick tries to shove Joe away from the microphone, but Joe isn't so easily defeated.

 

"He's going to promise, in front of all of you, that he won't steal any more marshmallows. Aren't you, Patrick?"

 

Patrick looks pretty offended by that. "I really don't think—"

 

"Because if he doesn't," Joe continues, "well, there's something he doesn't want Pete to know."

 

"Iwon'tstealanymoremarshmallows!" Patrick blurts, looking a little scared yet again. "I will not steal any more marshmallows. Ever. Until the end of time."

 

"Thanks," Joe says with a grin before bouncing back over to his side of the stage.

 

"What don't you want me to know?" Pete asks, looking gleeful.

 

Patrick just rolls his eyes and sings the first line of Grand Theft Autumn—and, well, that's answer enough.

 

 

The next few days are plagued with Pete hounding Patrick and Joe and, briefly, Andy, about the mysterious secret they're hiding. True to his word, Joe doesn't say anything. Patrick just looks flustered and angry the entire time, which really shouldn't be a good look on anyone, but there you go.

 

 

It's late. There are only two days left on the tour, and they've decided to splurge yet again on some motel.

 

Somehow, Joe ends up sharing a bed with Patrick, despite his protests. This bed is even tinier than the last one, which means that Joe's lying on his back, almost against the edge of the bed, and his left arm is still pressed up against Patrick's back. As if that wasn't bad enough, his left thigh brushes Patrick's side every time either of them moves.

 

He's in quite the predicament.

 

Honestly, his most base instinct is to repeatedly slam his head into the pillow.

 

He tries it once, experimentally.

 

Patrick stirs immediately. "We're not doing this again," he grumbles.

 

"That's fair," Joe whispers.

 

"D'you wanna talk about it? That helped last time you were having a midnight crisis."

 

"I—"

 

This is as bad a time as any, he figures. It's not like it'll get easier over time.

 

"Remember when I said I was basically in love with this guy, but he was straight?" Suddenly Joe's heart is pounding in his chest. He's doing this. He's doing this.

 

"Yeah?" Patrick's rolled over so he's on his side, facing Joe, and fuck, that's stressful.

 

"I was—" Too late to back out now. "I was talking about you."

 

Neither of them speaks. Or moves. Joe can barely breathe.

 

"That's sort of awesome," Patrick says.

 

Wait—did Joe hear that right? "Seriously?"

 

"Yeah, awesome. I maybe kind of have a thing for you."

 

"Wow."

 

"I know. Wow."

 

Joe's mind is racing. Does this mean they're a couple or something? Is something about to happen, or will they just lay here, awkwardly being two dudes with mutual crushes going on?

 

"Go to sleep," Patrick says softly, and rolls over so he's facing away from Joe.

 

When Joe curls up behind him and wraps his arm around Patrick's middle, well, it isn't like Patrick complains.

 

 

"Good morning!" Pete announces, throwing open the curtains. "We've got a shitload of driving to do, so we're starting bright and early!"

 

Patrick jolts awake, shoving Joe away and sitting up, elbowing Joe in the nose.

 

"Dude! What the fuck?" Joe asks, rubbing his nose grumpily.

 

"Sorry," Patrick mumbles. "I just—wasn't expecting—"

 

Joe sees his opportunity and grabs it. "Little too gay for you, huh?"

 

As expected, Patrick turns bright red and mumbles a "fuck off" as he digs around for a fresh pair of jeans.

 

Half an hour later, they're both still half-asleep in the backseat of the van. Patrick somehow ends up curled around Joe's side. He doesn't protest when Joe presses a kiss to the top of his head.

 

"Does this mean I can eat your Lucky Charms now?" Patrick asks with a stupid smile on his face.

 

Joe laughs softly. "Never."

 

He doesn't mean it.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, this was partially inspired by that one bit at the end of the this ain't a scene video where patrick and joe are spooning


End file.
